MOTHER LODE: Hospital's a nice place to visit, but only when you are patiently sick

One of the pastors of
the church where I was a member in high school used to ask the congregation,
"How many of you would rather be here than in the best hospital in Michigan?"
It was always good for a grin.

My recent hospital visit reinforced my conviction that the
hospital is a great place to be when you're sick. The trouble is, you usually
have to stay there for at least a while after you feel better.

When you're sick, you don't care about the ugly, wrinkled,
backless gowns they give you to put on. You're really happy to see that nurse
come in with the dose of pain reliever at midnight. I wouldn't be surprised to
hear that nurses have been offered money, kisses, and maybe marriage proposals
if they will just come back in two or three hours with another pill.

But when you start to feel better, your attitude changes. You
want to be left alone to talk to your visitors or watch the free movie on TV,
or best of all, to sleep. (Do they really need to check vitals every 30
minutes?) When the doctor asks, "Any questions?" you really only have one: When
can I go home?

"Soon," they say – the way people talk to a 4-year-old who
wants to know when she can have candy or how long until his birthday. Not just
yet. We'll see. Have you been good?

When I was sick a couple of weeks ago, I drove myself to the
hospital, stopping along the way at the health food store for some ingredients
for granola. I parked in the patient lot and walked to the emergency room. I
waited while another patient was being checked in, then gave my place in line
to an older woman who was obviously having trouble getting her blood sugar
regulated. After registering, I sat down and checked my e-mail on my iPhone,
then walked to an examining room where I got immediate relief from my shortness
of breath. I expected to go right home, but no, they needed my company for a
while. It didn't make sense. I felt at least 75 percent better already. What
good could a night in the hospital do?

I like to think I was a good patient, putting up with all the
poking and prodding that medical professionals delight in. But after hearing a
diagnosis of the problem that brought me there, getting a treatment plan, and
building what amounted to family ties with about six doctors, I was more than
ready to go home and eat home-cooked meals, wear sweats, and watch an entire
uninterrupted show on television.

The true oxymoron of hospital care is illustrated by the
discharge process. People come to the hospital in various stages of disrepair.
Some, like me, are walking wounded. Others are wheeled in, in chairs or on
stretchers. Everyone's there because they feel terrible. I stayed three days
and felt completely whole, but to get out of the hospital, I had to sit in a
wheelchair and be pushed to the elevator and through the hallways where, an
hour earlier I had been walking, to the exit by a woman at least 10 years older
than me. Figure that out.

Are you sick? Use your hospital as you would any good repair
shop. Get in. Get better. Get out as fast as you can.